A list of important questions which I am preoccupied with these days:
1. What thesis topic?
2. If two events A and B each individually determine a third event, why do we need event B, given that event A exists?
3. Should I do a PhD? Or should I get a job in Singapore?
4. Who do I like?
5. Who loves me?
6. Am I smart? Or was I merely lucky thus far?
I have never subscribed to the view that “a picture is worth a thousand words.” To me, that seems plainly wrong. To describe a picture in words never serves to capture the essence of it--not the barest outline. What you have before you, a painting, when described, is merely an elaborate name which you have just given to it, a baptism of sorts, but never accurate. Taken in isolation, the description just given would never have evoked in another person the picture which you saw.
That, some would say, is exactly what the phrase meant, that the picture is much more than words can do. But that in itself is a mistake, for to compare pictures with words is to assume they have at least some grounds of comparison, when they are in fact, as different as possibly can be.
Yet that is not to say words are inferior to pictures. In certain ways, words are markedly superior in producing images in the mind of which the greatest painters could not hope to emulate. For the painters, for all their creative geniuses, could only show their audience a single image; different interpretations to be sure, but nonetheless a single image. Words could do better; a certain description of a single scene could produce in its readers completely different images, not to mention having its own myriad of interpretations at the same time. In the world of words, sight and sound come together to form a tapestry of life, a moving 3 dimensional, real time successions of colorful events with you at the center of all, a silent observer of events as they play out in full color and vibrancy all around you.
A simple description like “It was a dreary day, full of smog and gloom, as I sat crowded in a morning bus, watching the pavement crept by” is both simple and rich at the same time, hinting at images beyond what it described, of the other vehicles crowding the road producing the dreaded smog; of the rush of the morning as students and commuters crowding each other in the morning bus, each hoping for more speed than the laden vehicle could give. One could imagine the oppressive feeling of being in that bus, and the underlying mood of the author, which is at once interspersed amongst the imageries conjured up in one’s mind. All these, needless to say, cannot be captured in the entirety by a 2-dimensional canvas, not even in a moving theatre of holographic images.
Latest update: I realised that "Kaisen Maki" could actually be a typo for "Kaizen Maki" which is a sushi described as made with "eel, flying fish roe, cucumber and melon with wasabi." Not a surprising typo since I took the photo on the 24th of Aug, whereas the packaging shows it "was" packed on the 25th.
I happened to catch a snatch of chinese news today on the tv, and it was reporting on some singer who held a concert somewhere, who apparently performed exceedingly well. What caught my attention however was how the reporter described the performance as hauntingly beautiful which made all the audience, this is the interesting part, "听出耳油."
Which meant, literally, that some yellow fluid is dripping out of your ears.
Now that's one really disturbing image. Imagine you are seated in a posh concert hall, with few hundred people all dressed to the nines, all holding their breath to a hauntingly beautiful melody. And suddenly, as the melody reaches its crescendo, you feel something wet creeping down your auditory canal. And you slowly realized, that out of the ears of the mesmerized audience, something yellow is dripping out slowly, staining velvet coats and bare shoulders in a persistent stream...
Bleagh.
Well it is only a metaphor I guess, but one couldn't help feeling that it is a rather crass one. Certainly not one to inspire the feeling of beauty when applied to any piece of music. Not unless it's a music designed to magically clean out your ear canal.
Sometimes it seems that life is about being happy. And if being happy involves doing nothing much other than slacking around, doing things that we like, or not thinking about unhappy thoughts, then we ought to be doing exactly that.
The trick however, is being able to slack around, doing things that we like, and not think about unhappy thoughts. One got to make a living after all, even if living is about being happy, you need food at the very least to carry on doing that. And if you try to earn your bread, in all possibilities the three important things outlined above are going to be quickly crowded out of your life. What then?
The balance seems to be somewhere between getting a job with no life and getting a life with no bread; we want a job that gives money, but minimal or no work is required. Is there such a job? Yes, being an academic. Or more specifically, being a philosophy academic. Other areas of academia like the social sciences does an admirable job of not doing any real work under the pretense of "research", but philosophy carries it to the extremes, where the only "research" involves racking your brains for a viable thesis topic. You don't even need to survey pesky undergraduates, or run babies through a lab maze. You don't even need to get out of bed.
In many ways, my thinking is affected by this ancient chinese philosopher Chuangzi. If you read his works, you will understand what I mean--he advocates not doing anything that might put you under undue stress or unhappiness, or indeed doing anything at all. In an early chapter of his book Chuangzi, he speaks of the Weiqi master who died young due to brilliance, and the zitherist who vomitted blood over his art. Later on, he speaks approvingly of the tree which has a crooked trunk and soft wood which is totally incapable of fashioning into anything, whereas the nice and straight hardwood due to its excellent quality, gets chopped down very early in its career precisely for those qualities.
My calligraphy teacher once advised me that Chuangzi is not a good read for young people. The young should be full of drive and ambitions; they should want things they couldn't achieve and do things that are severely stupid. Chuangzi teaches the exact opposite. I kinda agree with him now. Such a lifestyle tend to drag into monotony, and it seems way too early to be concentrating on putting one foot after another to live your life out.
That said, I have ambitions enough for ten people (judging from the ambitions some people around me has), so I haven't really been following what Chuangzi says to the word. I do however slack a lot. That's following the spirt of the word isn't it? Though that probably isn't a good idea, much better had it been the other way round right?
Or not, probably better if I had been able to throw Chuangzi entirely. On the other hand, if I had, I wouldn't be able to enjoy life, doing the things that I like, slack a bit, and not think about unhappy things. Maybe I'm good the way I am. haha
Last night was wonderful, but for the movie. And even the movie was great, just that the seating wasn't: we were in the front row of the theatre and right smack in the center. We had to crane our necks almost 90deg to watch the show, and I could feel a headache coming on even while they were showing the trailers.
That said, The Dark Knight is nonetheless a great show. It's just that I couldn't remember much of it since my brain was continually drained of its juices while watching it. Watch it for The Joker though.
